


Destress

by chaos_ineffable



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, HMCWTIYS, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining while having sex, Post-Apocalypse, Unedited We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_ineffable/pseuds/chaos_ineffable
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have been fucking their stress away for centuries. Now they have to deal with their emotions.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 93





	Destress

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very last minute piece for @usedtobehmc's WTIYS contest on Instagram! It was supposed to be half this length and not as messy but here we are! I hope you all enjoy!

“Angel,” Crowley said, sauntering into the bookshop. “What’s up?”

Aziraphale peeked around a bookshelf, scowl on his face. “Crowley. What do you want?”

Crowley tensed minutely, working to keep his body language relaxed. He cocked out one hip to really sell it. Aziraphale hadn’t kicked him out since the failed apocalypse and he had quietly been hoping that he was welcome here now. Apparently, all good things really did end. “Good to see you too.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and disappeared. The sound of books being rearranged soon followed.

A tense silence filled the room. Crowley sprawled on the couch in the backroom and listened to Aziraphale mutter curses and shuffle through the shelves. A crash came from one of the nonfiction sections, followed by a series of yelps. 

Crowley scrambled over the arm of the couch and ran to Aziraphale’s side. A large pile of books lay at the angel’s feet. Aziraphale’s fists were balled at his sides and his breathing was uneven. Crowley sidled up to him, moving slowly. This wasn’t the first time he had dealt with a frustrated Aziraphale. It was best to avoid spooking him, lest he turn some of that holy rage on Crowley. 

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?” Aziraphale huffed. He glared at the pile of books on the floor and refused to look at Crowley.

Crowley rolled his eyes and snapped, a small miracle that sent the books into a neat pile, with unbent pages and unbroken spines. “I’ve known you for six thousand years, angel. You don’t drop books for no reason.”

With the books no longer deserving his wrath, Aziraphale turned his scowl on Crowley. “I believe you’ll find things have changed over the past six thousand years.”

“Uh-huh. Says the one still wearing a vest from the early seventeenth century. It’s the twenty-first century now, angel. You could at least try to keep up with the times.”

Aziraphale’s scowl turned offended, his eyebrows almost meeting his hairline. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking for a properly scathing remark. Eventually, he huffed, angrily adjusted his bow tie in Crowley’s general direction, and walked away.

Crowley didn’t follow. He had learned when Aziraphale wanted to be left alone and when he wanted to be tempted. Whatever had Aziraphale’s feathers in a twist was truly upsetting him. So, Crowley would give him his space. Of course, he was going to spend this time figuring out how to brighten the angel’s mood.

It didn’t take him long. After a few hours spent watching the angel wander the bookshop and a couple of trips to nearby bakeries for pastries and nibbles, Crowley was sure he knew what the problem was. 

“When was the last time you got laid, angel?”

“Excuse me?”

“Laid? Screwed? Bent over and railed? When was the last time you got some cock?”

Aziraphale stared at him, his jaw tense, a pink blush tinting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Why, that is highly inappropriate, Crowley. The nerve to even- How dare-.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from where he was lounging in a stiff chair. “Come on, Aziraphale. We’ve done it how many times now. I know you’ve messed around with humans on and off for the past two centuries. Stop playing the innocent virgin.”

“Good Lord, Crowley. Why are you like this?” Aziraphale still sounded annoyed but his scowl had disappeared and his lips were twitching upward ever so slightly. “If you must know, I have not…joined with anyone since our last dalliance.”

“Our last- In 1947?” Crowley gaped at him. Aziraphale avoided eye contact, his hands clasped in front of him. “Aziraphale, are you serious? You haven’t slept with anyone in nearly a century? What the hell?” 

“No, Crowley, I haven’t. Can we stop talking about this now?”

“No, we can’t! You spent an entire century sleeping around with humans and then suddenly you stop? I didn’t think anything of it when you didn’t come to me after that nasty business with the rocket in America. Figured you were dealing with it on your own. But not even humans? Aziraphale, why.” Crowley felt like he was missing some important information that would explain all of this.

Aziraphale looked stricken. He rolled his shoulders and clasped his hands in front of him, a sudden look of determination overshadowing his nerves. “Because I couldn’t do it anymore, Crowley. I couldn’t keep lying to myself about you or the humans. About what I wanted from our Arrangement.”

Crowley’s blood froze. He knew this conversation was coming, had known for centuries. But he never thought it would come after he’d already lost everything else. “What do you mean?” He forced his voice to sound calm, refused to let it shake in the face of this horrible reality he had expected and failed to prepare for.

“I realized it quite a while ago, actually, back when you helped Hamlet along if you can believe. I didn’t want to admit to myself that…” he trailed off and stared at Crowley helplessly before shaking himself and continuing, “Well, anyway, I ignored it for quite a while but then you saved my books, that day in the church, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I could not continue sleeping with you, or with the humans, knowing that there was no real emotion behind it. I think it best if we stopped sleeping with each other simply to deal with our stress, and started, well, I’m sure you know-” He struggled to find words for a moment before raising his brows and saying, “Oh, I’m no good at this sort of thing, but I hope you understand, my dear.”

Crowley’s mind worked frantically to connect the dots. Aziraphale had given him two specific dates so he focused on those, searching for anything they had in common. He felt faint when he realized. It was the demonic miracles. He had performed miracles to make Hamlet popular and to save Aziraphale’s books. Apparently, despite his intentions, Aziraphale couldn’t stand his demonic nature.

He stared at the angel and fought to keep his shattered heart from leaking out of him. “I get it, angel. No point making the effort if there’s nothing to gain from it.”

Aziraphale’s look of relief twisted Crowley’s heart even more. “Oh good. I did hope you’d understand.”

“Yeah, ‘course. You made it clear as day.” He wanted to leave, drive back to his flat, and drink till he was so drunk he wouldn’t be able to talk, much less think about this conversation. 

But he knew what would happen if he left now. He would likely never see Aziraphale again. He couldn’t stand the thought of it but if Aziraphale wanted to never see him again, then Crowley would leave. But he wanted Aziraphale to hold him, one last time. He gave Aziraphale his most tempting smirk and leaned in, just enough to entice the angel. “I’m not stressed right now, angel. And it seems to me that you just dealt with a lot of your own stress. What do you say to relieving some of your frustration now?”

Aziraphale’s smile was a little uncertain. “Oh, well, I certainly won’t say no. But shouldn’t we talk more about-.”

“Nah, we’ve talked enough.” Crowley interrupted before he had to listen to Aziraphale push him away again. “We can finish talking after, over some wine and dessert. What do you say?”

“Well, I suppose, if you really understand, it couldn’t hurt. And we do have all the time in the world to discuss this later.” Aziraphale put emphasis on the last sentence as if his voice alone could ensure Crowley would stay and listen.

Crowley grinned. “Perfect. Take me to bed, angel.” If his voice cracked on the last word, nobody but him noticed.

\---

Crowley stared at the wall. Aziraphale was warm beneath him, his cheek plastered to the angel’s soft chest. The scent of sweat and sex mixing with his old-fashioned cologne wafted around them and Crowley wanted to never leave. Aziraphale snuffled in his sleep and nuzzled against Crowley’s hair, tightening the loose hold he had on the demon’s shoulder for just a moment before relaxing once again.

Crowley waited to be sure he was truly asleep before rising on one elbow and gazing at the angel’s sleeping face. They had been fucking like this for centuries and he still wasn’t used to this. A relaxed Aziraphale was a rare sight. The angel was always so anxious, worry lines etched around his eyes and frown lines dug into his brow. Sleep was the only thing that chased away those lines. Even when reading his books, those stress lines remained. Of course, Crowley loved them just as much as he loved the rest of Aziraphale’s form. But there was a different beauty about Aziraphale when those lines disappeared. 

Crowley was going to miss watching Aziraphale fall asleep. He was going to miss a lot of things about this time with Aziraphale, actually. All of it, in fact.

These moments late at night were some of Crowley’s favorites. The first time they did this, soon after the Saxon Wars a few centuries before they started the Arrangement, Crowley expected to be kicked out right after. He barely came down from his own orgasm when he started pulling his pants back on. Aziraphale watched him, utter confusion on his face, before he lifted his eyebrows in that specific way, fluttered his eyelashes, and said, “Won’t you stay?”

Even without that damn look, Crowley would have stayed. Laying in Aziraphale’s arms was all he had wanted since the Garden. But he couldn’t tell the angel that.

They stared at each other. Crowley balanced on one leg, his pants pulled halfway up one thigh and one foot caught in the fabric. He didn’t dare move in case Aziraphale changed his mind. Gravity had other plans. He wobbled dangerously and hopped around in a desperate attempt to maintain his balance. He began to tip forward and his body’s natural response was to land on the other foot. Which was still trapped in his pants. With an indignant yell, he toppled to the floor.

Aziraphale was polite enough to hide his snicker behind a hand. Crowley glared at him from the floor. Aziraphale held back his amusement and asked, “Are you alright, dear?” His lips twitched with every word.

Crowley struggled to his feet and yanked his pants on the rest of the way. After that display, he felt far too vulnerable to be naked in front of the angel. “’M fine.”

There was an awkward silence, which was broken by Aziraphale patting the spot on the mattress beside him. “Do come lay back down. You deserve a rest after all that.”

Crowley was surprised when Aziraphale fell asleep before him. He considered himself an expert sleeper at this point, able to sleep on any surface and in any position. He had never seen Aziraphale sleep and he found he couldn’t stop looking. He spent that night in the angel’s arms, watching him sleep and wishing he could reach out and touch. He fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, just before the sun came up.

When he woke, he was alone. If it wasn’t for the scent of ozone left in the sheets beside him, he would have thought the whole thing was a wonderful dream. 

It became a habit after that. Anytime their head offices sent them unpleasant orders, they would search out the other and fuck their stress away. Aziraphale always slept and Crowley always watched. They never talked about it and Crowley was okay with that. He didn’t think he could hold that conversation without revealing how devoted he was to the angel. 

He considered calling it off on several occasions. As nice as good sex was as a distraction, a few nights with a bottomless bottle of alcohol worked just as well. He wouldn’t even miss the sex, not really. He had never needed sex. He enjoyed it, sure, but he could live without it. He had very different feelings about their afterglow cuddling.

The entirety of the fourteenth century was horrid but there was one specific year that wore on Crowley more than the others. Pestilence and Death were rampant and everyone was dying. No matter what Crowley did to ease the suffering around him, someone else was suffering more. He was worn thin and ready to fight Pestilence himself when Aziraphale found him. 

He fought Aziraphale the entire way to the angel’s rooms, hissing and spitting about the millions that had already died and the millions more that were going to. Aziraphale stayed silent until they reached his rooms. Then he took charge. “Sit down on the bed, dear.” It sounded polite as ever but there was an edge to his voice that commanded Crowley’s obedience. 

Crowley sat on the bed.

“Good. Usually, I would spread you out and take care of you but I am thinking you need something a bit different from our usual fanfare. Is that correct?”

Crowley pouted at his lap and refused to answer. Aziraphale stood in front of him and tilted his face up with a finger under his chin. “Is that correct?”

Aziraphale held him there until he jerked his head to the side. “Do whatever you want to me. ‘Snot like it’s going to make a difference. Once you’re done we both have to go back out there and deal with it all over again.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale sighed, stepping closer until his knee brushed against Crowley’s. “You’re worse off than I thought. Let’s see what we can do to fix this.”

He pushed Crowley down until he was flat on the mattress. Crowley growled, dredging up as much demonic energy as possible to send the sound echoing through Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, kneeling over him with a thigh on each side of Crowley’s hips. “Yes, you are a big evil demon. But right now, you’re hurting, so do be quiet and let me work.”

There was that edge in his voice again and Crowley could do nothing but obey. Aziraphale hummed in approval and began to take off his clothes. He made quick work of stripping them both to their pants, forgoing the teasing that would usually leave Crowley whining for more.

Curling a finger around a patch of dark red chest hair, Aziraphale said, “I do hope I’m not being presumptuous with this but you do seem to enjoy our cuddling after sex and I very much believe that sex should be avoided when one is in a mental state as poor as yours. Of course, just say the word and we can go right back to our usual methods.”

Crowley didn’t say anything and he didn’t move. Aziraphale waited a moment before taking that as permission to move forward. Adjusting so he wouldn’t crush the demon beneath his wait, he lowered himself until they were pressed together from shoulder to knee. He worked his arms around Crowley’s back and squeezed the demon even closer to him, nuzzling into his neck with a content sigh.

Crowley stared at the ceiling with wide eyes and didn’t dare move. He craved this sort of touch but never considered he would receive it without sex being involved. The warm press of Aziraphale’s chest against his own, the soft pressure that pushed him a little further into the mattress with every one of Aziraphale’s breaths, the strength of Aziraphale’s arms wrapped around him; it was all something he had wanted but never dared ask for, not without giving something in return. 

They had stayed that way for the rest of the night and for the first time, Crowley fell asleep first. When he woke up to a cold bed and not even so much as a letter, he almost regretted the whole thing. He craved affection, soaked it up like a sponge. He had allowed himself to believe that the previous night had been done out of honest compassion and a desire to care for him. The empty room was more than enough to prove him wrong.

Now, as he sprawled over Aziraphale’s warm form for what was probably the last time, he didn’t think he could let this go. The angel was everything he wanted; he was warm, affectionate, caring, and even kind. He was Aziraphale. Something inside Crowley knew that he needed to let go, give the angel space to live out the rest of his life how he wanted, not burdened by Crowley’s clingy nature.

It took a few minutes too long for Crowley to realize he was crying. Aziraphale sat up, jostling Crowley into his lap. Fingers found their way into his hair and started massaging his scalp. He pressed his face into one of Aziraphale’s thighs and hoped he hadn’t noticed his tears.

“Crowley, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, voice slurred and gravelly from sleep. “Why are you crying?” 

Wrapping his arms around the soft thigh, Crowley squeezed his eyes shut. Aziraphale continued to massage his scalp, worry emanating from him. “Dearest, please tell me what’s the matter?”

Crowley froze. That word echoed in his mind. _Dearest_. For millennia, he had been _my dear_ or _dear boy_. Never dearest. Never something that named the fondness he imagined Aziraphale felt for him. He peeked from his hiding spot, moving back far enough to whisper, “What did you call me?”

Aziraphale’s blush was instant and shameful. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. It just slipped out.”

Crowley pushed himself up, sitting back on his heels. “Why did you call me dearest?”

Aziraphale huffed at him. “There’s no need to make fun. I know you don’t feel the same way about me so you don’t need to rub it in.”

“Wait, what?” Crowley’s mind was running faster than he could think. “What do you mean ‘feel the same way’? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You told me you understood!” Aziraphale cried, looking like he would prefer to be anywhere else at the moment. “I told you and you said you understood.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, hope beginning to wiggle in the back of his mind, “Rephrase our earlier conversation in the simplest terms you can think of because clearly, I did not understand.”

There was a brief silence while Aziraphale searched for any sign that Crowley was playing with him. When he found none, his eyes widened and he breathed, “I love you,” into the air. “I love you and I can’t keep having sex with you because I know you don’t love me back.”

“I don’t love you-“ Crowley could have laughed if the situation was even a little bit funny. “I don’t love you? Angel, how could I not love you?”

Aziraphale looked shocked. “You mean… really?”

“Yes!” Crowley grinned, realizing what this meant. “I love you, angel. And you love me.”

A tiny smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face and Crowley swooned a little. “Oh, dearest, this is wonderful. I had wondered but you never said anything and I didn’t want to assume.”

“I never said anything? What about you? You could have said something!” Crowley teased, barking out a laugh.

Aziraphale joined him and they fell into each other, laughing until their stomachs hurt. When they managed to calm down, they were in a similar position to when they started. Crowley sprawled over Aziraphale’s chest and Aziraphale holding him close. 

“We are a bit silly, aren’t we?” Aziraphale asked, stroking Crowley’s arm.

Crowley tangled their legs together and made himself a little more comfortable. “Maybe. But just a bit.”

Aziraphale hummed. “I think it suits us. Makes our existence just a little more...”

“Don’t say it,” Crowley groaned.

Aziraphale silenced him with a peck on the lips and smiled, “Just a little more ineffable.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can chat with me on tumblr and Instagram!


End file.
